


You Make Me Happy

by Lukutoukka



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 21:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19048393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lukutoukka/pseuds/Lukutoukka
Summary: It's the first time Kent and Tater will see each other since Tater was traded from the Aces to the Falconers. They're... excited. A lot. Jack is not equipped for any of that, but especially not the dog in his locker room. Hold on,Taterthe dog?





	You Make Me Happy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a list of thanks – hellebarde, for the absolutely AMAZING [art](https://theartofhellebarde.tumblr.com/post/185301429381/my-piece-for-this-years-omg-check-please-bigbang) (I got so lucky!), my betas, toughpaperround and Denois, for the amazing assist, & of course everyone at the Rev Bang, it was a hoot!

It happens after practice. One second, there’s Tater, getting undressed, the next there’s a Dog. A Big Dog. Right where Tater just was. As a matter of fact, he’s even still wearing Tater’s under armour. For a certain value of “wearing”, in any case.

The chatter dies down almost immediately, everyone staring at the dog – _Tater_ –, who tries to wiggle out of the shirt he’s still wearing. He’s actually not doing all that bad, considering he doesn’t have opposable thumbs.

Jack is so not equipped to deal with this, but some of the other players look more exasperated than confused and shocked. The dog – Tater, that’s Tater, _what the fuck,_ seems perfectly fine, especially once he’s wiggled himself out of the clothes, wagging his tail and bouncing around.

“ _Esti de marde_ , Tater, calm the fuck down,” Marty says from where he’s sitting in his stall, and surprisingly, Tater sits down immediately. Marty sighs, before continuing: “This happen to you before, eh?”

Tater lifts and taps one of his front legs twice.

Marty snorts. “Does that mean ‘yes’?”

Tater snorts right back and Marty rolls his eyes. “Point taken. Okay, show me your sign for ‘yes’.”

Tater taps the leg twice.

“And what about ‘no’?” Marty asks.

Tater taps the leg once.

So, yes, one could say that Jack’s day is pretty surreal.

***

Jack’s day doesn’t get less surreal either. Tater the dog sticks closer to Jack than Tater the man usually does (unless he’s angling for pie) and he’s surprisingly bossy. Well okay, Jack is more surprised by his ability to get across what he wants than by his bossiness, but well.

An hour after Tater turned into a dog, Jack is home, Tater hard on his heels, Tater's bag (packed and carried by Jack, supervised by Tater) over his shoulder. Bitty is in Providence, so at least Jack doesn’t have to try and explain…Tater. The Dog. (He keeps pinching himself to make sure this isn’t just his imagination going into overdrive or some stress related breakdown.)

The second he’d managed to open the door – not all that easy with one big dog pressing against his legs and carrying not one, but two bags – Tater had taken off, apparently to explore the apartment.

“You know this place, Tater,” Jack had called after him, but Tater had just wuffed once and didn’t slow down before disappearing around a corner.

So Jack took his time getting inside, sorting out the bags and some water for Tater. Snowy had promised to bring dog food over, had even offered to take Tater with him – and so had Marty (Tater looked seriously tempted when Marty mentioned the kiddo) – but Tater had insisted on going with Jack.

Jack puts down the tupperware bowl with water for Tater and is just on his way to go looking for Tater, his mind full of questions whether Tater might be able to explain what’s going on and oh fuck, will Tater be back to normal and able to play the Aces tomorrow? – when music starts playing somewhere.

From the depths of the apartment, there’s barking and then there’s Tater coming full speed around the corner, slipping a little on the hardwood floor. He barks once at Jack while running through the living room and on into the hallway. There’s a muffled crash that sounds suspiciously like Tater coming to a sliding stop – Jack very determinedly does not think about his floor – and when Jack follows Tater, he’s greeted by the sight of Tater wagging his whole body while at the same time trying to drag his bag towards Jack.

“Uh, bud? Need, uh, a hand there?” Jack asks.

Tater abandons the bag for a second to come nose at Jack’s hand, before turning right back around to nose at one of the side pockets – the one that is still singing kind of breathlessly, then looking up at Jack. Jack thinks the person requesting he give them more might be Britney Spears, but he’s not entirely sure.

“You uh, want me to answer that for you?”

Tater makes his sign for yes, so Jack fumbles out the phone from the pocket, Tater kind of dancing all around him, more an obstacle than anything else.

The picture on the screen shows the silhouette of a person wearing a snapback, arms slung around their knees. They’re sitting on a rock, backlit by the sun, everything made softer by the light. Caller ID is just one word, and it’s written in cyrillic letters, so Jack has no idea who to expect when he accepts the call – Tater knocked him on his ass while he went looking for the phone, so they’re sitting on the floor, Tater wagging his tail hard, his nose pressing into Jack’s neck. Jack shoves him away enough to be able to say: “Alexei Mashkov’s phone.”

***

Providence is going to be their last stop of a grueling road trip – preceded by a back to back in New York to play both teams there and another back to back in Ottawa and Montreal before the game in Boston yesterday – and everyone’s looking forward to going home again. Kent both is and isn’t. Being home is better than being on the road, especially after a road trip like this. But this time, part of being on the road means being with Tater and Kent _misses_ him. They text and call all the time, but they spent the entirety of the last season basically joined by the hip and now there’s 2,700 miles and a three hour time difference between them – unless they’re on a roadtrip or something – and it’s just not the same.

The point is, Kent is kind of _super excited_ when they board the bus from Boston to Providence, because it’s only like three hours before he’ll see Tater again and the Aces have the rest of the day off. Tater has promised him _pelmeni._

Also, you know, Tater’s going to be there. For the entire afternoon, _at the very least_.

Kent sends a text when they leave Boston, just to let Tater know, texts him some more during the journey. He knows Tater has practice, so he doesn’t expect anything back immediately, but then they’re in Providence, and Kent has brought his bag to his room, showered, considered changing three times and poked at his hair before just putting a cap on it as usual and Tater still hasn’t written back, even though his practice should have been over a while ago and _they have plans_.

The line rings. And rings. And rings. And then –

“Alexei Mashkov’s phone.”

“Jack?” Kent blurts out instead of ‘Hey man, what’s up?’, or ‘Tater, are you alright?’ or even the ‘Did you forget about me?’ that’s been lurking in the back of his mind.

“Kent?” he hears Jack ask and then there’s a commotion at the other end of the line, some barking, what sounds like an “ouch” and a swear in French and then, muffled, like Jack is holding his fingers over the receiver, “Tater, calm down, would you? You want me to tell him what’s up?”

Kent can’t quite help the giggle that’s escaping him at that, and then Jack is back on the line, sounding exasperated.

“Sorry Kent. We, uh, have kind of a situation here,” Jack says and Kent starts laughing for real.

“Let me guess,” he says. “Tater channeled his inner Samoyed again.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, and then “ _Torrieu_ , Tater, this would be easier if you would actually let me talk to him, you know?”

“You have me on speakerphone?” Kent asks, and when Jack says no, he suggests: “Put me on speakerphone then. You translate. Tater and I need to revamp our plans for today. You know how he says yes and no?”

“You sound surprisingly relaxed about this whole thing,” Jack says. There’s a couple of sharp beeps that have Kent pull his phone away from his ear. “Criss de câlisse, Tater why is your phone so complicated? Okay, Kent, you’re on speaker.”

Less than 15 minutes later, Kent is in the back of a cab, on his way to Jack’s apartment.

***

After the phone call with Kent, Tater somehow manages to turn his energy up a notch, tail wagging so hard it’s a blur, strolling around from corner to corner, lying down for a second before jumping up again, as if he’s not sure what to do with himself.

Jack endures five minutes of this before he says: “Mon dieu, Tater, calm down. It’s just Kent.”

Tater heaves a heavy, heavy sigh, but he sits down at least, his tail still wagging hard. Although now he’s looking at Jack and that’s maybe a little bit disconcerting. It takes a bit of Tater staring at him, but then –

“Hold up Tater, it is just Kent, right? You’re, like, friends aren’t you?”

Tater sighs heavily again, his tail slowing down. He makes his sign for ‘yes’, places his paw on the ground for a few seconds and then makes the sign for ‘no’.

“Yes… and no?” Jack says and Tater signs ‘yes’ again. “Euh, Tater… How is it both yes and no?”

Tater snorts, the same sound he’d made at Marty earlier and – “Oh, right. You can’t really answer open questions. Sorry. Alright, euh… So you’re happy Kent is coming?”

‘Yes.’

“But… You’re also unhappy Kent is coming?”

‘No.’ – signed more emphatically than Jack thought possible.

“Alright, so you’re just happy that Kent is coming. Then why…” Tater interrupts him with a snort. “Shush, Tater, I’m just thinking aloud here, alright?”

Tater snorts again, but he also taps ‘yes’, so Jack is satisfied. He churns over some ideas, Tater staring intensely at him, but – “I don’t get it, bud. Is it a problem that Kent is coming?”

Again, an emphatical ‘no’ is the answer.

“Are… are you so happy that Kent is coming that you turned into a dog?”

This time, Tater hesitates a little before he signs ‘no’. Jack sighs. He doesn’t get it. Marty had said it was probably something to do with feelings, and well, Jack wasn’t very good with feelings.

“You really should have gone with Marty, you know?” He tells Tater. “Marty would know how to help you.”

Tater signs ‘no’. Jack can’t help but laugh.

He’s trying to think of more yes/no questions to ask Tater, when the doorbell rings and Tater is off like a shot, barking once. Jack follows at a more sedate pace, and when he reaches the front door, Tater has his front paws on the door handle, tail wagging excitedly.

“Down, Tater,” Jack says, mostly out of reflex. “I locked the door earlier. Come on, step aside, would you?”

Tater does step aside, but he doesn’t go far, pushing towards the door.

Jack gets it open anyway, and Tater slips out the door as soon as possible.

“Hi Tater,” he hears. “Hey, what’s with the face? You don’t appreciate seeing your favourite goalie?”

At this point, Jack has the door open completely, and he steps into the hallway. Tater is staring at the elevator, looking a little betrayed.

“I think he was expecting someone else,” Jack tells Snowy.

Snowy lifts one eyebrow. “He’s expecting someone to come by your place? How come?”

“It’s uh… Tater, you okay with me telling Snowy?”

***

Snowy is sitting on the floor, Tater’s head in his lap, scritching behind one ear, when Tater’s phone – still lying on the coffee table from earlier – proclaims _It’s Britney, bitch_ and Tater scrambles up, nearly knocking his head into Snowy’s nose in the process.

“Jesus, Tater. That’s your boy, huh?”

Tater is too occupied with the phone to answer Snowy, tail wagging hard and – oh. _Oh._ Jack feels a metaphorical light bulb appear above his head.

 _That’s your boy, huh_. His father had said almost the exact same when he’d first introduced Bitty to his parents. Jack shelves that thought for the moment in favor of answering the phone.

***

When he’d called Jack (on Tater’s phone) from the lobby, there had been another voice in the background, one he couldn’t place, so Kent spends the admittedly short elevator ride wondering who’d be there with Jack and Tater. Bitty, maybe?

He occupies his thoughts with wondering how to deal with Bitty, instead of continuing his thoughts from the cab – what if? What if Tater had turned into a Samoyed today of all days because… Because… – and he is woefully unprepared when the elevator doors slide open and Tater bounces in and presses his entire body against Kent’s.

He really should have expected this.

Kent laughs and resists the temptation to just sit down right there in the elevator to hug Tater. Instead, he bodily pushes Tater out of the elevator and towards the open door, says: “Come on Tater, I’ll say hi properly inside of Jack’s apartment, okay?”

Tater doesn’t leave his side on the short walk towards the door, but at least he’s coming with. He tries to stop just inside the door, but Kent just shoves him forward, shoots a quick “Hi” in the direction of Jack and someone who is definitely not Bitty, before he sits down and buries both his hands and his face in the soft fur Tater is currently sporting. He gets a cold nose in the crook of his neck, “nicely” offset by Tater’s hot breath.

“I missed you too, Tater,” Kent says, because well, there really isn’t anything else to say, is there?

***

Jack exchanges a long look with Snowy. Kent really knows how to handle Tater the Dog. And Tater lets himself be handled by Kent.

Jack tilts his head in the direction of the kitchen and he and Snowy tactfully retreat while Kent talks to Tater.

“So, uh,” Snowy says with a carefully straight face. “They’re, uh… Really good friends, huh?”

“Good friends like Bitty and me, maybe,” Jack answers and Snowy cracks up. Jack smiles, but he can’t help but ask: “Did you know?”

Snowy reigns his laughter in and says: “That they’re friends or that they’re _friends_?”

Jack shrugs. “I don’t actually think,” he starts, but he isn’t quite sure how to finish that thought, so he stops.

“Yeah, me neither,” Snowy says. “But, nah. I knew he and Kent were pretty good friends and I had an inkling that Tater wasn’t, y’know, all straight, but that was all.”

“How much time do you think they’ll need?” Jack asks. Snowy shrugs.

“We could let them come to us,” he suggests and pulls out his phone. They settle in for the long run.

***

So the thing is – the thing is, Tater has absolutely no control over when he turns into a Samoyed, but _theoretically_ he does have some control over changing back. He once proved it to Kent by staying a dog for an entire week, even though a part of him had itched to turn back after only a day. But that’s the thing: _Staying_ a dog longer than his body wants or needs to is easy. Turning back human, on the other hand… He’s always struggled with that.

Which is why he doesn’t even give it a try right when he turns in the locker room. It probably would have been a futile attempt anyway, it’s not like he turned just because. So he gives himself some time, obviously he needs it. And he trusts his teammates to not make it a big thing.

His thoughts are different when he is a dog, but they’re still starp enough that he remembers a) that Kent is coming, b) where the Aces are staying and c) whose apartment is closest to the hotel. It’s just a happy coincidence that Jack might still have baked goods and Tater figures he’s mostly likely to cave and give some of them up if Tater plays his cards right.

Once they’re at Jack’s apartment and Tater thoroughly inspected it through his dog senses – he knew Jack had a secret sweets drawer! – he gives turning back a try, without success. It’s not the end of the world, seeing how Jack is a willing minion. He seems to have a bit of a hard time understanding what he wants, but that’s okay, Tater can make himself understood. Well, mostly. Jack doesn’t seem to know what questions to ask to satisfy his curiosity, but that’s Jack’s problem, not Tater’s.

His reaction when Snowy comes over is maybe a little embarrassing, but the dog took over there for a bit and he _really_ missed Kent, okay? On the other hand, Snowy knows _exactly_ how and where to scratch so that Tater turns into a puddle. He also smells really, really good, Tater notices as his eyes slip shut.

And then, finally, Kent is there and he’s hugging Tater and yes, that’s it. Well, that’s almost it.

Tater’s even worse keeping track of time as a dog than he is when he’s human, and all his captains learned very quickly that he needs to be closely monitored if he’s supposed to be on time. All of which is to say that he has no idea how much time has passed, but Jack and Snowy are quiet in the kitchen, and Kent’s hands have mostly stilled in his fur. He’s still murmuring things into Tater’s fur, but Tater doesn’t catch everything of that. Anyway, he kind of needs to be human to implement his plans for the day, so he takes a deep breath and tries again to turn back.

This time, he manages the mental sideshuffle, the world flips very subtly, and he’s human again. He closes his eyes and buries his nose in Kent’s neck against the short bout of vertigo that always comes with the change of his senses, but it’s not so bad this time. Kent doesn’t react much besides shifting his arms a little, still scratching softly through the short hairs at Tater’s neck, giving Tater the time he needs to readjust.

Tater drags his nose up along Kent’s neck, before sighing. “Hi солнышко,” he says and tries to disentangle himself. He has some talking to do, even if he hopes that at some point today he’s going to end up naked in Kent’s arms again.

***

Tater greets Kent with the same nickname he’s called Kent forever, before trying to pull away, and Kent just – he can’t. He knows he should probably be using his words, but it’s so easy to just slide the hand he had at the back of Tater’s neck so he can thumb along Tater’s cheek and lean in; lean in until he’s kissing Tater and – Tater’s kissing back.

***

Jack turns out to be more patient than Kent expected, gives them a lot of time before he comes looking for them, but it’s probably not unreasonable of him to swear the way he does when he finds Kent making out with a naked Tater in his front hallway.

THREE MONTHS LATER

“So what I’m hearing,” Kent says as he watches Tater wrestle one of the goddamn _Samoyeds_ he got today, “what I’m hearing, is that your goalie has a weird sense of humour and also way too much power over you. Tell me again how he talked you into getting not one, but two fucking Samoyeds. Tater. Tater, no don’t –”

But it’s too late, and great, now Kent is skyping _three_ dogs. “Fucking goalies,” he says and pulls out his phone, considering which of the Falconers he should call to go deal with … that. There’s a bang and the screen goes blurry, and Kent hits dial. He really can’t burden Jack with this.

“Go deal with the mess you created,” he says when Snowy picks up. “My boyfriend just turned into a dog while skyping me and it’s your damn fault.”

TWO AND A HALF YEARS AFTER THAT

Tater wakes up absolutely entangled with Kent and feeling very, very warm. His head is on Kent’s naked chest, which is his absolute favourite place for his head to be, his arm slung around Kent’s waist. One of Kent’s legs is lying over Tater’s hips, the other is entangled with Tater’s. Tater isn’t sure how this is at all comfortable for Kent, but he doesn’t mind. Ghost must be the one curled in Tater’s back, because he’s got his hand buried in Blacky’s white fur (You can’t name a white dog _’Blacky’,_ Tater!” – “Well, what else kind of dog I name Blacky? Black dog? Like cliché?”) and that’s Kit’s tail in his face.

The sun is just peaking through the blinds, which means they can sleep a little while longer, but soon they’ll have to get up. Soon, they’ll have to split up again for the season. But there is a ring box nestled between Tater’s socks in his half of the closet and Tater has two foolproof plans how to give it to Kent – one is the emergency Samoyed-because-of-nerves plan.

Tater sighs, content, and closes his eyes again, just for a bit.

Right now, it’s perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos & comments make my days a little brighter. You can also find me on [tumblr.](https://vanillivilovesreus.tumblr.com/)


End file.
